


Masterpiece

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Filk, Poetry, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-15
Updated: 2000-01-15
Packaged: 2018-11-10 08:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11123076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: An angel creates a new life.





	Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

masterpiece

## 

**Masterpiece**

by Voyagerbabe

Author's Webpage:http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Starship/6102/home.html   


Author's disclaimer: 

There once was a company from Toronto, 

Who owned the worlds best TV show. 

Places, wolves, people, and plot, 

All the rights they have got, 

But here I can do what I want to.   
  
  


***   
  
  


Forgive me for this, please. It's horribly sentimental, but it's late, and I've been writing SUCH depressing things tonight.   


WARNING: This sucker is loooooooong, because it's really a story told in verse.   
  
  


***   
  
  


Among the clouds and golden streets, 

Where the angels toil eternally and with joy, 

They labor long and so carefully form, 

Each and every human girl and boy.   
  
  


Given in gift to a woman and man, 

To comfort, to shelter and raise, 

Their potential has already been formed, 

The inborn sculpting of future ways.   
  
  


Each one in turn is special, 

Unique and priceless art. 

Yet once in a while one is made, 

That is truly set far apart.   
  
  


One morning Gabriel chanced to find, 

A young angel bent over his task, 

So much more intent than before, 

That Gabriel was moved to ask.   
  
  


The young angel looked up to him, 

His face glowing proud and bright, 

"This man is to be my masterpiece, 

Every detail refined until just right.   
  
  


I've sculpted him of the finest stone, 

For a body resilient and strong. 

I've formed his heart of the driven snow, 

Too pristine to ever turn wrong.   
  
  


I've locked in his soul the trust of a child, 

The belief that mankind will prove pure. 

But should darkness cross his way, 

This heart will still remain straight and sure.   
  
  


I've taken also from the animal realm, 

The cunning of the fox and the eagle's sight, 

He can hunt like the wolf yet be soft as the dove, 

With man's power to tell wrong from right.   
  
  


His skin was crafted from buttercream, 

His muscles from firm iron bands, 

I put power and grace in his body, 

But a gentle touch in his hands.   
  
  


The face I sculpted from one of us, 

An angel unblemished by care, 

His eyes are the blue of the calm cool lake, 

The dark wood of ebony colored his hair.   
  
  


His voice can soothe the crying child, 

But firmly turn away evil's advance. 

I've worked on each detail as never before, 

Not a single thing has been left to chance."   
  
  


Gabriel looked again at the sculpture, 

A thing of perfection, but something strange, 

He looked at the young angel with sadness, 

"Your intent is good, but he must be changed."   
  
  


He withdrew a long, sharp thorn, 

From within the folds of his gown, 

He pricked it into the smooth, pale skin, 

But not one drop of blood trickled down.   
  
  


"You created a sculpture, not a man," 

Gabriel quietly and gently explained, 

"He cannot hold the virtues you wish, 

Unless he must overcome sadness and pain.   
  
  


Give him tears in the eyes of blue, 

So he may cry by a loved one's grave, 

Weep for the sake of an innocent wronged, 

Or with joy when a life is saved.   
  
  


Give him sweat upon his brow, 

As he tires in body like any man. 

But let him keep the iron will, 

To press himself beyond what he can.   
  
  


Give him blood within his veins, 

To be spilt in selfless sacrifice, 

For if there is no threat of pain, 

Heroism loses it's powerful price.   
  
  


Let the heart of a man be formed, 

Vulnerable within that stone, 

A heart that feels like any mortal should, 

Knows when it's befriended and when it's alone.   
  
  


Make the emotions run deep but strong, 

Able to be held within most of the time, 

But once in a while, let them break free, 

Against logic's cold reason and rhyme."   
  
  


The young angel looked at it's creation again, 

Now pulsing with life after the changes made, 

No longer such pristine perfection perhaps, 

But there had been more gained in trade.   
  
  


Those eyes now held a living soul, 

The thorn's prick had begun to bleed, 

And he knew that bit of mortal weakness, 

Was the thing his creation did need.   
  
  


No longer held high on a pedestal, 

Something about him still shone bright, 

For though endowed with human flaw, 

He still strove for what was right.   
  
  


Smiling at last in satisfaction, 

Gabriel approved him for earthly life. 

The human race needed a kind new touch, 

Against it's growing cynicism and strife.   
  
  


He soon was set upon the earth, 

To grow and live and learn and feel, 

As the young angel sat and watched, 

The masterpiece now made real.   
  
  


He was just as the angel had envisioned, 

Fighting on the side of justice and right, 

Then there was a black and sudden turn, 

A woman left him alone and bleeding in the night.   
  
  


The young angel turned to Gabriel, 

His whole being afire with shame, 

"See now what your weaknesses have done? 

My creation will never again be the same!"   
  
  


"My pupil," Gabriel whispered, 

"He now has learned what it is to need, 

He can sympathize when passion reigns, 

And understand when other hearts bleed."   
  
  


Still the young angel was not appeased, 

He saw his creation returning to stone, 

So afraid of the pain that the heart shut down, 

Leaving him cold and once again alone.   
  
  


The angel wept many golden tears, 

Why must mortal life be so unfair? 

Here was his perfect creation, 

But such agony he must bear.   
  
  


Along came another dark-haired woman, 

Who knew power well but mercy poor. 

The young angel began to truly fear, 

How much more he could endure.   
  
  


But slowly things began to change, 

And the young angel watched in awe, 

The man's pain had let him realize, 

That it was also pain in the woman he saw.   
  
  


With acts of gentle kindness, 

He slowly earned her trust. 

Genuine affection grew, 

To replace fear and lust.   
  
  


When at last their hearts and lips did meet, 

He flew to Gabriel and dropped to one knee. 

"You were right about it all along, 

Can you forgive the doubts in me?"   
  
  


Gabriel smiled and leaned down, 

The young angel's chin to lift, 

"Though cruel it seems you'll find that pain, 

Is perhaps mankind's greatest gift.   
  
  


It is something so hard to overcome, 

It can fuel both love and hate, 

But it is the true test of a creation, 

As to learn from it is what makes one great." 


End file.
